home of all such "Foreign Devils," in _his_ view.
Why, he's none too sweet on Me, JOHN; is it likely he'd like _you_?

_Grattez le Russe--et cetera_. You are mighty fond, J.B.,
Of quoting that stale epigram. You fancy it riles me.
Not a bit of it, my Briton; Tartars have a thickish skin,
And your foe and I are neighbours, nay a distant sort of kin.

The Mantchus and the Romanoffs are not exactly chums,
And a Tartar insurrection, when that little trouble comes,
As it may do if you press too much at Pekin, well, who knows?
There is always something pleasing in the quarrels of one's foes.

The Mantchus miss a many of once subject Tartar tribes
Who have--gravitated Russwards. Little call for blows or bribes
To make blood-relations mingle. On the Mantchus this may jar,
But we've not forgotten Kuldja, and we recollect Kashgar.

Wheels within wheels, dear JOHNNY! As to missionaries, well,
They are troublesome--and useful; but to put things all pell-mell
On account of priests and parsons, and of quite an alien creed,
That's scarce "diplomatic," JOHNNY; it is not, dear boy, indeed.

A new Tamerlane, my JOHNNY, who could stir the Tartar hordes
To--say "Asiatic Concert,"--well, you know that thought affords
To your talky "Only General" a quite sensational theme.
But prophecy's not "business," JOHN, and CAESAR should not dream.

Oh! the world is full of Bogies. _I_'m the biggest of them all
In the minds of many croakers who ne'er saw the Chinese Wall,
But are frightened at the spreading of my kindred--on the map;
For I'm semi-Asiatic, and half Tartar, dear old chap.

Now put this and that together, think of Pamir, Turkestan,
Of Persia, of the Dardanelles!--I think you'll see, old man,
That though this ramping Dragon _you_ may wish to tie and tame,
A Benevolent Neutrality is rather more _my_ game.

* * * * *

A PLAYGOER'S "LAST WORD."

(_AN ECHO FROM THE PIT._)

The Season is--_has_ been for some time--silly,
And lengthy correspondences are rife.
We have, alas! to read them willy-nilly;
They take a deal of pleasure out of life.
To flee such evils here's an easy way--
Let morning dailies idly rant or vapour,
At the Lyceum go and see the play,
The programme there's the finest DALY paper.[2]

[Footnote 2: A Correspondent, signing himself "A Knight of the Free
Lists," suggests that free admissions to the Lyce